


An exceptionally handsome man walked in (with a confident yet courteous air)

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Cheating, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Forgiveness, Love, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rivalry, Scandal, Seduction, Self-Harm, mentions of unsafe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16695931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Messi has been stealing his spotlight, his trophies, his fame for years. Maybe it's the right time to steal something from him in return.a.k.a: La Liga's going on out there somewhere. And Messi isn't here.





	1. Prologue

"I know it's hard to understand - but don't think that I don't love you."

 Dybala looks like a sulking child with his puffed cheeks and reddish eyes and he won't look at Lionel, no, not even after his soothing touch. "Paulo. Please."

"You think it's easy for the rest of us?" he mumbles, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "That we don't feel down after all the losses?"

"It's my decision."

"Yeah, I know."

"You'll play great even without me."

"What else is there for me to do?"

Messi doesn't speak when there's nothing left to say. He doesn't answer, instead, he looks down, still holding Paulo's hand as if the gesture itself was supposed to speak for itself. Paulo bites his lip, shaking his head. The tears he's been trying to fight back since they left the World Cup, defeated and broken, were running down his face freely. "Nothing. Of course, you say nothing."

Lionel looks just as broken inside, lost in his thoughts and with his gaze fixed at the ground. "This is all I wanted to say."

"Yes. Naturally." Paulo's hand slowly crept away from Leo's grasp. "I think it's all then." He moved as if he wanted to get up; at that moment, Leo made a hasty move, the only decisive thing he's done in a long time, stopping him in the middle of the act. 

"Don't be angry at me. I do what I can. I'm sorry if it's not enough."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Paulo whispered, jerking away from the touch.

"I'll come to Turin - I promise. For your birthday. We'll be together - "

"My birthday?" Paulo let out a desperate choked laugh. " _My birthday_? You mean November?"

 "I need to be in Barcelona - "

"Oh. Yes. How could I forget." He wiped the tears again, shaking his head. "Good luck there then."

"Paulo - "

"No. I wish you well. I hope you'll score more amazing goals and make your team win every game you play." He swallowed hard. "I really do."

"Thank you. Come here - give me a kiss. Come on - " He opened his arms wide, finally managing to look Paulo in his eyes. Paulo let himself get lost in his captain's embrace, and as he laid his chin on Lionel's shoulder, the tears rose in his eyes again.

"We're good," Leo whispered. "It's gonna be okay."


	2. He moved with a swagger, which would have been ridiculous (had he not been so good looking)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last two sentences are taken from the song "The Opera" from the musical "Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812".

The summer was all about CR7. He was everywhere. His face, his smile, his blindingly white teeth - every newspaper, every internet server, every TV channel Paulo turned on - everything was full of him. His name was all over the news. _Cristiano Ronaldo joining Juventus. Cristiano to bring a new style of play. Ronaldo to move to Italy. Serie A getting a huge boost_. It was impossible to escape him - his face was on all the banners and billboards in Turin. 

 _Welcome, CR7_ became the unofficial motto of the summer.

It was the one thing Dybala was welcomed by after his arrival. Overwhelmed by his own worries, he would almost forget about this legend joining Juventus. It was nothing, compared to being kicked out of the World Cup in the very beginning. It was nothing compared with Lione's depressive mood after their return from Russia.

It was nothing in comparison to Leo's decision _to not play_ for the national team for the rest of the year and his cowardly escape to Barcelona, back to his comfort zone where he still was the unbeatable and beloved man.

It was impossible to avoid the reality in Juventus. Everyone has been talking about Ronaldo ever since his sign-up became known.

_What is he like? Why did he sign up for Juventus? What can he bring? Who he actually is? What will this all mean?_

Nobody seemed to care about the World Cup. Nobody cared about Messi. It was all about Cristiano now - and Dybala just had to get used to it.

He's heard there were people enterprising to the point they started selling random objects as "Ronaldo-connected" - there was a "CR7" ice-cream being sold as well as a pizza called "Ronaldo". The madness seemed to take over the whole city - and the team as well. Paulo has never seen his playmates so nervous and anxious about anything, even the experienced older ones - they were all waiting for the legend known simply as CR7 with their breath held.

The atmosphere of expectation all around the city slowly but surely intoxicated Paulo and made him weak just from seeing the well-known face on a photo. He never particularly cared about Ronaldo, why would he? He had Messi - and he had him in the national team, by his side, as well as after the games and after the stadium emptied. His and Lionel's relationship was a public secret, everyone knew about it and the whole football world was holding its fingers crossed for them. Paulo's actually seen bets some people made - _if Argentina gets to the finals, Messi will propose to Dybala right on the field_. It was crazy but Paulo's heart fluttered when he read such phantasmagoric ideas.

Now, Messi was long gone and his name was nowhere to be seen - this was Italy, this was Serie A, this was Turin and Juventus, this was Ronaldo's land and just now, in the first days back in Italy, Paulo started to realize that Ronaldo was a real man, a living legend that would come to play in this club.

He never perceived him as a person. 

CR7 was a product, _a brand_. He couldn't be real. Paulo was so used to seeing him in ads, on the TV and on posters that he never thought of him as _a man_ \- there was no real person hidden behind the "CR7" name and fame. He laughed at his friends who could talk about Ronaldo's genius, he laughed at their obsession with this man - but waiting for Ronaldo's arrival made him as anxious as anyone else.

He saw the shots of crowds surrounding the entrance of the stadium. Inside, he could still hear the fans chanting Ronaldo's name minutes before the car even arrived and there was a strange atmosphere surrounding the otherwise laid-back team; Dybala barely even spoke to the other guys, they were all too nervous and too busy trying to mask that.

The fans' cheering and screaming outside got louder and Paulo caught a glimpse of his playmates, looking at each other with the same kind of expression he knew he himself had at that moment.

He is here.

 _Ronaldo is here_.

 _Cristiano Fucking Ronaldo_ is here, and he's just probably getting out of the car, accompanied by at least two bodyguards, and the fans are screaming and shouting and expressing their love and admiration in many different ways; Paulo could picture the banners and the people waving their new Juventus shirts, hoping _the god himself_ would stop by and sign it, and there are camera flashes everywhere as the photographers run around the whole picturesque scene, trying to get the most epic angles.

Someone in the room joked " _I hope they won't kill him with their love before he even gets here_ " and there's a thankful relieving laugh all around Paulo - he himself smiles but he can't really laugh at that joke, his mind is overwhelmed by the messiest process of thoughts and there's a strange feeling of inexplicable expectation and fear of something big that's coming - the laugh of other Juventus players gets lost in the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.

And the seconds are taking so long to pass.

Dybala feels a hot feverish wave roll over him while a creeping shivers run down his back. He never felt like this before, not even when signing the contract or playing the first game.

There's a group of at least eight people rushing into the room as if doing a police round-up, and then there's a group of journalists and photographers walking backward, trying to get the whole situation live on their cameras, for their streams and later editing and for a while, Paulo understands what Leo hates about these situations, there's just too many people in the room, too many voices coming from all corners of the room and everyone's shouting over each other, trying to get the last word, and it's so hot and unbreathable in the room all of sudden that Paulo wishes to storm out of the opened door to get out, away from this nauseating situation but there are more people coming in, the officials in their suits and more journalists and some smiling women, fake from head to toe, and it all seems like a fools' parade to Dybala.

And then -

An exceptionally handsome man walked in, with a confident yet courteous air. He moved with a swagger which would have been ridiculous - _had he not been so good looking_.


	3. And I turn around and he's looking at me

Cristiano smiles and shakes his hand, and his palm is so soft and warm and big in the firm and a lively handshake that he gives to every one of his new fellow players. It’s just a question of mere seconds as their eyes meet but the effect is stealthily rising – Ronaldo’s eyes are the warmest shade of green and brown mixed together and looking in them feels like being wrapped in a velvet blanket, cozy and warm. Paulo just smiles and answers Cris' greeting but at the moment Ronaldo lets go of his hand to move on, to another player, everything seemingly slows down, the time, the rate of his heart, his breathing, and his hand drops down softly.

He turns his head to see if he can renew the eye contact but something in him stopped him from doing so; he jerked his head back, trying to focus on the color of the walls instead.

 _What was that?_ He stared in Ronaldo's eyes for a second, maybe two, but Ronaldo was a different person to him now - he was _real_ , he was _a man made of flesh and blood_ , and for some reason, Dybala was blushing furiously, feeling a freezing cold in his hands. _What is wrong with him_? 

The rest of the day is beautiful, the world is beautiful, and Paulo knows it's going to be like this from now on because Cristiano Ronaldo is a real person and he has this kind of aura around him that makes his presence so unbelievable. 

He never cared about playing with CR7 and yet at the end of the day he feels like his whole future life depends on Ronaldo's next move.

 

 

There's no message from Leo, not a sign of him caring about the so-called _transfer of the century_.

In fact, there hasn't been a message from him for days now. Four days, actually. Paulo knows that, he controls his phone every morning, hoping to find at least a good morning kind of message from him. Of course, he knows that Messi is the best player in the world and he's as busy as can be - but would it hurt so much to write a stupid "How are you?" message. Just ask, just care, _just..._

He knows Messi. He knows him as a player, he knows what everyone knows - that he's shy, that he doesn't really enjoy giving interviews and that he hates having his private life exposed. He also knows how cute his smile actually is up close, and how nice his small gestures of affection are, how thoughtful he is, and how comforting the quiet hours spent together, doing nothing, _just being together_ , are. As everything comes with its price, there are also times that are too quiet, too calming and too boring, and sometimes Leo doesn't talk much, sometimes he's tired and sometimes he's overwhelmed by the responsibilities he's been given, and it all just piled up during the World Cup and in the following weeks. What used to make Paulo feel comfortable and relaxed was suddenly stressing him out - was Leo quiet because he was still sad? Was he mad? Did he wish to be back in Barcelona? 

_Hey ;) How was your day?_

He sent the message and lay down on the bed, exhaling in relief at the relaxing feeling of the high rise mattress under his back and then opened instagram. 

 _cristiano is now following you_.

 

 

" _So? Anything new in your dolce vita?_ "

Cristiano laughed, hiding a yawn. It was indeed exhausting to live like this now. "The guys are fine. The rest is...pretty normal."

" _Yeah? So - crowds of fans, thousands of hands wanting to touch you and thousands of voices chanting your name_?"

"How well you know me, Gina."

" _And? What else_?"

He shrugged, yawning again. He was really tired and sometimes, Georgina was a bit too nosy when it came to his private life. Not that he would really care - she was a beautiful model and having her as a good friend was always fun since she knew how to keep the press interested in her, in him, and in both of them - _Are they a couple? Or just good friends? Either way, they look so good together_! 

"Oh, you know who plays here?"

He could hear her charming laugh on the other end of the phone. " _Some world class players I guess? And now even the best player in the world_ \- "

"Messi's lover-boy."

 " _That cute little guy who looks like he's always frowning? The one with the eyebrows...you know?_ "

"Yeah, yeah, that's him." Ronaldo smiled upon remembering the face. 

" _He looks good_."

"Oh, believe me, it's even better in person. That's the one thing we gotta give to Messi. He has _quite a tast_ e."

" _Are you - no! You can't be seriou_ s!"

"I'll just give that kid some confidence and see if he's as innocent as he looks. I've been just checking his instagram. You should do that too. You know - I wouldn't mind getting closer to him."

" _You're the worst!_ "

But she was laughing too.

"You know what they say - " he smirked. "What Messi has, I gotta have as well."

" _I guess it's true then_."

"Let's just give it some time."

 " _I'm afraid the kid is doomed from now_ ," Georgina said in a serious tone after a short pause. " _You've never been the kind of person anyone could resist_."


	4. Charmante

" _Love_?"

"What took you so long?"

" _Paulo, I'm not calling to argue with you_."

"Then why are you calling at all? How many days has it been? Five? You can't pick up a phone and call?"

" _You know that I think about you every day_."

"Why didn't you at least call me back?"

A silence on the other end made him think whether he's gone overboard this time but after a pause, Lionel sighed and continued as if nothing wrong has been said. " _How are you? Is everything okay_?"

 "It could be better."

" _How come_?"

"I just told you!"

" _Paulo, please - tell me you don't mean that_."

"Why?" he asked desperately, unable to think of anything nice to say.

" _It hurts me to hear you talk like this._ "

"Yeah? It hurts me to not hear you talk at all."

" _That's not true, Paulo - you know I'm busy and you know I call you every time I can - - - I hoped we're both mature enough to understand each other's own life and obligations - You know how it goes and you know how it is, and I would like to think you know me well enough to understand that it's sometimes...hard to call when there's really nothing new to say_."

 "What happened to - calling _just because_ \- just _to hear the voice_ \- just to know we're both alright - I just don't know what this is anymore - Leo, just tell me - Are we still on the right path? - "

" _Please, listen to me - you know this is right - And you know that I love you -_ "

There was no answer from Paulo.

" _If you need to hear it, I'm gonna tell you - I love you and I miss you. I thought you knew that even without me repeating it all the time -_   _"_

Dybala burst into a helpless laughter that felt like burning inside of his throat.

 

 

 

Then, there were the roses.

After scoring a hattrick, Dybala found a bouquet of delightfully carmine roses laid on his usual spot in the locker room. He froze upon seeing them, and he could hear some of his mates chuckle and laugh, someone even whistled in surprise.

"Well, well, well, someone has an admirer in here."

Paulo's cheeks flushed when all the eyes turned to him.

"I guess Messi watched you play," Federico laughed and patted his shoulder with a look of amusement.

 " _Who would have guessed he's such a romantic soul_?"

" _How did he get them here_?"

Paulo didn't react, his whole vision was blurred and the only thing he could focus on was the bouquet; he walked slowly towards it, feeling embarrassed as well as flattered.

And frightened.

He knew the flowers couldn't be from Leo.

Not that Leo wasn't a romantic, he was, but he would _never_ send the flowers to the locker room. He was a lot of things, but a show-off wasn't one of them. 

As Paulo picked the bouquet up to smell the roses, to the great amusement of his mates, he discovered a note attached to the flowers. 

 

_You indeed are a jewel x_

 

"What's written there? Secret love messages?" someone mocked him and _everyone_ started laughing again.

"All my love, from Barça to Juventus."

"Barça and Juve and a big heart?"

 _Everyone_ \- except for Paulo, whose heart was racing in a terrible feeling of being torn between two different states of mind, neither of which he could name properly.

And except for Cristiano, whose eyes were scanning every move and gesture of the red-faced Argentinian.

Dybala didn't talk much for the rest of the night. He changed his clothes, feeling like sleepwalking, and then took the bouquet in his hand again, smelling the sweet intoxicating scent.

It wasn't from Leo; Leo would send the flowers to his home. 

If he was to send any flowers at all.

Well, he never did.

Paulo closed his eyes, feeling a bit lightheaded, when there was a calm, composed voice talking to him.

"You know - " His eyes snapped open in a shock and he was staring right at Cristiano, who came closer and whose face expressed care and interest. "Jewels need care, otherwise they might lose their shine."

 His hand with the flowers dropped as he tried to focus on _the words_ and not _the man_ who just let them out of his mouth but something about them (or maybe about the man himself?) sent shivers down his spine and he was unable to say anything at all.

Ronaldo smiled nonchalantly as if to say _Don't worry, we'll try it next time_. "Good night."

 

 

 

He used to think about Leo a lot when playing, or at least before stepping on the pitch, and though he always felt annoyed by all the usual comparison of himself and Messi, he always wished to play like him. He also wondered if Leo might be watching the match somewhere in Spain, of course, if he's not too busy.

But not today.

The atmosphere on the stadium is electric, fans' cheering sounds more clear than normally and it grows even more intense every time Ronaldo speeds up or makes a surprising turn. If it was in their power, they would love to see him score every time he even touches the ball, and Dybala finds that mesmerizing and funny that one person can make such a huge impact on the whole stadium and his heart flutters when he's the first one to congratulate him after his goal as the crowds are screaming and shouting Ronaldo's name - and the man who caused this madness waits for him at the sideline after doing his signature celebration, he waits for _him_ with open arms and a big smile and though it takes just two or three seconds to run up to him, Paulo feels like he's in a slow motion. He throws his arms around Cristiano's neck and feels the warm, strong body against his, their frantic heartbeats aligned together, and Ronaldo's hand wrapped around his waist to hold him even closer as they share a hug in front of the thousands of fans.

Paulo doesn't think about Messi at all.


	5. Alliez dans le monde plutôt que de dépérir d’ennui!

The presence of CR7 in his life brought him something he never even knew he had - and that was a hunger he never felt before. Raw, wild hunger that made his throat dry and clenched every time Cristiano was near and he felt like an animal that smells its prey, all his senses were suddenly on halt and all his thoughts seemed to be affected by his closeness, though he felt ashamed and frightened by such terribly strong emotional response to something as usual as having a man near.

He never felt any kind of physical attraction to anyone from his team, naturally, it was sometimes harder to concentrate with all the fit and muscular bodies around him but that was never something distracting or damaging for his performances nor the state of mind. And suddenly, the sole presence of Ronaldo made a wave of freezing shivers roll over him and though he indeed felt like an animal, affected by the basic instincts and impulses, he wasn't really sure if he was the hunting or the hunted one. Ronaldo's eyes always seemed to be following him around the room as well as on the pitch and they were more dangerous than a hunting rifle.

He saw those eyes even in his dreams. A feverish heat burned in his whole body as he woke up in the middle of the night with both racing heart and thoughts.

It wasn't only the eyes he dreamed about.

He reached for his phone from under his sweaty blanket to check the time; when his heartbeat got back to its normal, he could feel a terrible pain in his chest. He needed something soothing, a kind of a cure, and there was only one possible way to reach that - he started searching for his messages, desperately losing himself in his thoughts again anytime his concentration began to flag. Leo, Leo, where's the damned chat - fuck, Cristiano's body looked so good in his dream. So realistic. The six-pack and perfectly smooth chest and - _oh God_. He was going crazy. 

Yesterday was hectic. There were too many news, too many new informations - and Leo got injured when playing against Sevilla. He watched the scene later, read the news on the Internet, and called Leo to ask if he's okay. Lionel's voice was tired when he said " _Paulo, I can't go anywhere now. The doctor said three weeks of rest and small practices - every day - it's too much of a risk to do anything else_."

Of course. _Of - fucking - course_. He wanted to throw the phone out of the window upon hearing Leo say this.

" _Paulo, baby - are you crying_?"

"No, I'm not."

And then, Cristiano invited him for a party - _nothing big, just the guys from the club and a few other friends, my house, please come_. This time, Paulo indeed threw the phone away and went to sleep without answering, hoping to never wake up to have to deal with anything of what his life has become. 

 Why was he dreaming about Ronaldo? Messi got injured. He broke his arm. That was what he was supposed to think of. And he did, worrying himself to no end, thinking of the worst, career-ending scenarios, and still, it didn't help, Leo was in Barcelona and injured while Cristiano was here, all healthy and shining with his energy. But then, in his dreams, his unspoken thoughts got revealed - and there was shirtless Cristiano and his face, twisted in a weird mixture of pleasure and disappointment, Paulo knew this face, it was the one that he always pulled when he missed a clear chance, and everything about it was unbelievably erotic - Cris licking his lips, his closed eyes and focused facial expression - 

 _Leo, Leo, he has to think about Leo_. Leo is injured and in Barcelona. He will not come for his birthday, although he promised to. It's not his fault he's injured. Naturally. And Paulo's supposed to go to Argentina to play with the national team - while Messi won't be there.

What is Leo to him after all now? A voice in the phone, a voice from afar. He hasn't seen him in ages. Only through facetiming. He doesn't remember what it feels like to touch him, his hands, his face, how soft his hair is or how warm his skin feels. Or how his kisses taste. Is this all he will ever get? Words of love and phone calls that end in silence after five minutes?  

 He tried to think about Leo. He tried to remember him, he tried to force the thoughts of him inside his mind but the only thing he gets in return is Cristiano's self-confidence and his big hands and strong arms and how warm his touch was -

He can feel the arousal. And it's not really bad. If Cris' hand moved a bit lower - 

 _Oh God_ \- Leo is online and it feels like the last hope - this is the only way Paulo can stay sane. But everything turns red, everything is under Cris' influence and everything is drowning in the beautiful feeling of passionate desire, and Leo is his only hope - 

"Please, don't leave me alone on my birthday."

" _But you're not alone. You have your friends and fellow players - spend your special day with them. I'll make it up to you. I promis_ e."

Well - fuck you and your false promises, Lionel _._

 

Somehow, Cris could sense the change, and he came close before the training, ready to be what anyone else couldn't.

"What's the matter, _Paulito_? 

Dybala just shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "I don't really know."

"What happened?"

"You want to know the whole story?"

Cristiano watches him with slightly raised eyebrows and it sends shivers down Paulo's spine because it feels like he knows exactly what kind of dreams Paulo had last night and who was the main protagonist. Paulo really should be thinking about Messi.

 "I heard Leo's injured," Cris says nonchalantly, connecting the two pieces of the story - Messi's injury and Paulo's sadness - in one.

"Yes, he is."

"It must be sad - now - before your birthday - "

Paulo shrugged, trying his best to be cool and unaffected. "It's bad but I think I can - "

"If you have nothing better to do then, you should come to the party. You'll like it. All your friends will be there - and how could we have a party without the crown jewel - without you - ? You really need to come. Please. It's a fate. Look at yourself. What else is there for you to do? Think about that - " 

Dybala blushed furiously, trying to compose his feelings.

"Cris, you're really thoughtful but I - "

"Don't say anything. Only that you'll be there. _Please_." His _please_ is so intense it sends shivers down Paul's spine. "Please. Paulo. Don't be cruel. I want to see you there. It would mean a lot. Really. It wouldn't make any sense to make this party without you. Just say you will come."

Cristiano's eyes were staring straight in his soul with the intensity only they were capable of.

Paulo licked his lips, knowing so damn well what he should say.

"I will come."


	6. He gaze in my eyes and said nothing - just gaze in my eyes

It was a bad idea from the very start and Paulo knew that. He sensed that what he was doing was bad because he had the tingling feeling around his heart he always used to get as a child when he and his friends were about to cause trouble. To Leo's simple question _Got any plans for today_? he answered _Not really_. That wasn't lying. He didn't really have anything planned. The party - Leo didn't have to know about that.

And still, as the evening approached, Paulo realized that there probably will be photos and Leo will eventually learn about it but it didn't make him nervous at all. He liked the idea of indirectly showing Leo he's just fine even without him. It could have been childish but Paulo's mind was too occupied to care about such petty things.

His thoughts were swirling as he looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his shirt's collar. Was he dressing up just because? Or was he dressing up for Ronaldo? He wished he knew. 

It's nothing big, after all. Cristiano himself told him so. A regular party. Maybe not even a party. _A friendly gathering of the players at Cris' place_. That was the right name.

After all, Paulo still needed a reason to go there - a reason he could tell anyone without feeling guilty. But why should he feel guilty after all? He hasn't done anything to be sorry for.

And still, he knew it was bad, smoothing his shirt for the hundredth time and putting on his cufflinks. It wasn't just a regular night - it was the night where he was supposed to show Messi, no matter how far or uninterested he might be, that he has his own good life and he doesn't need anything else.

The first person to greet him was a pretty brunette in tiny dress that showed more than covered; Paulo couldn't shake off the feeling she was an actress or a model or something and it felt weird being welcomed by someone like her. She told him her name was Georgina and that Cris was her old friend and she also just had a job in Turin so she decided to stop by - and yes, she indeed was a model. She was talking too much, blabbering without much sense. "I'm such a fan - it's unbelievable all the players are here now - " 

Paulo just smiled politely and let her lead the way because she obviously knew the place well.

There was a muffled music coming from some other room and Paulo felt like he was dreaming - the whole house had a very modern feeling to it although combined with comfy dim lights. Georgina led him to the kitchen where she casually got to the counter.

"What do you drink?"

"Just wine please."

"Wine? We don't do that here. Hey, I'll make you this great cocktail - "

"I really shouldn't - "

"Don't worry, even Cris drinks this. And you don't play tomorrow, am I right?"

The mention of Ronaldo's name made Paulo shiver, and his eyes dropped to the ground.

"Vodka or gin?" Georgina asked him, reaching for the bottles.

"Vodka's fine."

 His heart stopped upon seeing the amount of vodka she poured into the glass but at the same moment, he heard a voice that made him flush.

"Paulo - I'm so happy to see you here - "

He turned around just to see Cristiano making his way into the kitchen, with a martini glass in his hand, perfect, beautiful, in a suit that looked so perfect on him and which was probably made specifically for him, telling from the way it just suited his body and every move he made - 

He came closer, tall, strong and manly as always, and his smile could start fires - he smiled and wrapped his hand with the glass around Paulo's shoulders. "You have no idea how happy I am to have you here," he breathed out, and Dybala froze at that moment, feeling as if Ronaldo's voice could kill him in one second. "Paulo," Cris continued, "you look so good tonight. You're always so pretty but now - wow. How do you do it, _baby_ , what's your secret - "

 _Don't call me baby. Don't call me baby. Don't call me baby_. That's all Paulo can think of. Don't call me anything - let me live as I want - 

And still, he doesn't say a word. He gazes in Cris' eyes, amused and entertained. 

"You're enchanting," Cris whispered as moved back again. "So beautiful - "

Paulo blushed, looking at the ground when Georgina brought him the promised drink. "Just a bit of vodka - and cranberry juice - "

He tasted it, and the cocktail was much more made of vodka than juice, just one sip was enough to make him feel different, and after a few seconds, his head felt like flowing.

"Is it good?" she asked him, curious and waiting. 

"Yeah," he said, trying to focus on what the drink actually contained. Vodka, juice, fruit, ice - _Jesus_ , he'll need some plain water after a few more sips.

 "Where are the others?" he asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with only the girl he didn't even know and Cristiano in the room. "I'd like to say hi."

"I'll take you there," Cris promised, smiling. He took Paulo around his waist with his free hand and led him where he himself wanted to, through what was supposed to be a corridor (though Paulo couldn't remember passing a door of any kind, the whole house felt like one big room with various wardrobes and half-walls and screens to divide the space) - "They're all right here - " This room was something between a terrace and a living room - it had a beautiful view of a terrace but warm tones and light and cozy atmosphere of a living room, everything was in the color of dust, beige and gold, and combined with white it all appeared very soothing and welcoming. 

And the guys were indeed all there. Cristiano squeezed his hip a little before letting him go as some of the guests came closer to greet him.

"Hey, how are you? Is this party any good?" he asked jokingly, desperately trying to get himself involved in any kind of conversation that would erase the feeling he had - the feeling that he was there just because of Cristiano.

"It's like a family dinner," Mario said with his usual _Mr. No Good_ expression. "Only without the food."

"Nah he's just lying," Federico laughed, raising his glass as if to make a toast. "The food's over there, you can take what you want. And I see you've already been given a drink so - cheers!" He had a different glass, with a different drink. "What do you have? Some kind of liquor?" 

"Vodka and juice and - more vodka?"

"God, he's really trying to get you drunk."

"What?"

"Vodka? For you? Now? In the middle of the season? Come on."

"I can take it. I'm not twelve."

 "Yeah but you have a training session tomorrow."

Paulo frowned, feeling like he was being treated like a kid yet again. Why was everyone so quick to assume he can't take care of himself or be responsible for his own actions? He knew what he was drinking, and he knew he'd need at least five more drinks to feel bad tomorrow. He chugged the rest of the drink down in one gulp.

"Well I won't be cleaning after you tomorrow," Fede shrugged, walking off with a nonchalance.

Paulo frowned, and his eyes roamed the room to find Cristiano. He was talking to someone on the other side of the room while still gazing on Paulo, and when their eyes met, he smiled, showing his beautiful white teeth in a smile that could melt tons of ice. 

Paulo realized he was getting too fixated on the smile, and he jerked his head, trying to wake from this state of mind. 

 Was Cristiano really trying to get him drunk? What for? To tell him his compliments?

He would love to know. Talking to Cristiano seemed to be the only way to learn it - but he was afraid of doing _that_. He needed yet another reason. Tonight, he wanted only one thing - to forget Messi and be close to Cristiano, but he still needed a good reason for both those things so he didn't have to feel guilty. Was an empty glass enough of a reason? At a party, yes. 

He smiled apologetically at Mario. "I need to get more of this - "

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mario asked him suspiciously. 

"Yeah," he said, feeling yet again attacked. Why shouldn't he be okay? He was just about to have the second glass of a drink, not tenth - why was everyone so fucking overprotective of him? Was it just because of his childish face? 

He walked towards Ronaldo who seemed to get a grip of what was going on in his mind in a second. He immediately left his friend and rushed closer to Paulo.

"Another one?" he asked, touching his empty glass.

"Yeah," Paulo exhaled, feeling the weird and almost forgotten feeling of starting numbness. "A strong one."

Cristiano's hand was back at his hip as he led him back to the kitchen - and it felt just right. "Of course - with vodka?"

"Yes please."

Cristiano's grip grew tighter, he was hugging his waist with one hand as casually as if this was business as usual. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why is everyone asking that?" he snapped, uańable to hide his frustration anymore. "I just want a fucking drink and - "

 "We care about you. That's it."

Cristiano's hands are suddenly all over his body, touching, caressing and mapping it, and it takes Paulo a while to realize they're back in the kitchen with nobody as a witness.

"Just the drink - " he says, dazed and confused.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby," Cristiano whispers breathily, hugging him from behind, and the warmth of his body feels amazing pressed agains Paulo. "You have this kind of an expression - you're worried about something - "

 "Nah, it's nothing - "

"Come on."

Cris' voice is urgent, he squeezes Paulo tight and kisses the side of his head which is a gesture Paulo can't really fully understand, he shivers from head to toe under such possessive touch and tries to free himself from Ronaldo's grasp.

"Let me go - "

"Only if you tell me what's wrong - " His grip is already loose and he's watching with curiosity

 "You know I'm not single - " he spat out, turning face to face to Cristiano. "You know I date Leo - why are you doing this - ?"

 "Because you're not happy!"

Paulo's eyes opened wide, and his breath got caught in his throat. "Why do you think so?"

"Look at you - " Cristiano's fingers ran straight through his hair, caressing his scalp. "You have no life in your body. You're merely surviving - There's much more in life than this, Paulo - and I could show you just how much you're missing - "

"No - I'm good - " He freed himself of Cristiano's touch, looking for anything to do to task his hands with. He had no idea where exactly the drinks were stored so he started opening random cabinets and cupboards, looking for something to do while still feeling Ronaldo's eyes upon himself.

 "You can't lie to yourself, Paulo - not for long - "

Dybala could feel his breath against the back of his neck and the familiar hands roaming his back. "You're only hurting yourself like this - "

"Where's the vodka?" he asked, distressed and unable to focus on any of the thoughts that were just running through his head as Ronaldo's hands started massaging his shoulders. 

Cris just smirked, patting his shoulders. "You need someone to take care of you - you need someone who can appreciate you in the right way, baby - "

"The vodka - "

"Here it is." The bottle is freezing and Cristiano's fingers rest against his for too long for it to be an accident. "You need someone," he continued in his breathy voice, "who knows how to kiss you, how to touch you - and how to make you feel good again - tell me, Paulo, tell me that you need that - "

 The room feels too small to allow him normal breathing, he needs to get out - and he pours a generous amount of vodka in his glass as he thinks about that. His hand is shaking with a synchronized way with Cristiano's breath he can hear from behind.

"Look at me, Paulo - tell me why you came here. Be true to yourself - think about it - "

He shakes his head, unable to really think about that - "I should go, Mario's waiting for me - "

"You have no idea what you do to me," Cristiano exhaled, grabbing him by the elbow. "Your pretty face - I can't live without touching it. Will you let me - ?"

He doesn't wait for the answer and his hand is already at Paulo's chin, stroking it lovingly. "So good - "

Cris' closeness is burning him, it's like being exposed to a deadly laser - Paulo doesn't think about it but deep down in his heart, he can sense the clenching feeling of something bad going on but who would care about something like this when Cris' hand feels so good on his skin.

He shouldn't even be here. He definitely shouldn't be with Cristiano alone - he just needs someone to talk to and he'll get away from this spell that CR7 casts upon everyone - the world is swinging all around him as he grabs his drink, taking a quick sip from it. "I need to go - "

Cristiano's blocking the way, not letting him move away from the counter. "Think about what I said - "

"Sure - "

This time, he got away. He simply pushed the taller man away, making his way in the surest manner possible out if the kitchen, aiming for a group consisting of Szczesny, Chiellini, and Mario.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have another drink - he shouldn't talk to Cristiano - 

He took a sip of his drink, joining the group casually, attempting to act as normal as possible. 

Still, in a few seconds, he could feel Cristiano's eyes on him again.


	7. I'm here now

No matter how much of an innocent conversation Paulo had with his friends, after a few words, his bewildered thoughts always came back to Ronaldo, and his eyes started to look for him all around the room. Every time he looked at him, Cris was watching him and his eyes never seemed to move though he was always changing his position around the room, talking to the guests.

Paulo had more drinks, Georgina and some other girl whose name he forgot immediately after she introduced herself were always quick to ask him if he needs another one, take him to the kitchen and serve it for him while keeping a flowing conversation about thousand stupid things that didn't matter at all; this didn't escape the attention of the others.

"Man, Leo should be worried about his place," Costa elbowed him jokingly when he returned with the girls from the kitchen with a new drink in the hand.

"Why do they always go for the wrong ones?" Federico joined him, winking at one the other girl. "You should tell her you're not interested. She probably doesn't even know who's Messi." The girl frowned at him and then rolled her eyes before walking off, probably done with _this asshole_ forever; Fede's words and her response left the whole group in tears.

Paulo laughed almost hysterically. He didn't really feel anything when hearing about Leo. His senses were too numbed by now that he couldn't care less what Leo would think if he knew he's here with two attractive girls, well, neither what he would think about the scene with Cristiano - 

No. _No_. He wasn't supposed to think like this. He should go home - the room full of people feels too hot and suffocating and there's the aroma of different types of alcohol everywhere - _and Ronaldo's eyes still staring deep in his soul_. _He's going mad_ \- he can't take this look any longer; he made his decision, he's going home. He raised his glass to finish his drink, realized the glass is almost full as he had it just refilled, but brought it to his lips anyway just to tear it away in a second with the last piece of consciousness - _he can't chug it down at once, he must not drink anything_  - 

He put the glass down on an end table in the most casual way without even stopping and continued his way towards the people he spent most of the night with, Mario and Douglas. The floor felt a bit slippery under his feet.

"I'm gonna - go - " He waved his hand somewhere where he supposed a door could possibly be situated and then grabbed Mario's arm. "I can't stay here - I need some fresh air and a walk and - "

"Woah, how much did you have?"

"Not that much - I'm not drunk, really," he said, trying his best to look decisive. "I just need to be alone - "

 _Yeah, the floor is definitely tilting underneath his feet a bit_. And Mario looks worried. "Not drunk, huh?"

"I am not!" he protests, raising his voice, just before remembering he actually wanted to leave quietly without causing any alarm.

He slipped out of the room in the most sneaky way he was capable of, leaving his drink standing on the end table. First, he headed to the toilets. The air there was much cooler, and being alone in the spacy bathroom finally allowed him to take in a deep breath again. He didn't even look drunk when he gazed at his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes were a bit too shiny - but maybe that was just _the jewel_ showing itself. He laughed - and his thoughts slipped back to Ronaldo. He was the one writing "You indeed are a jewel x" on the note that came with the flowers.

The roses had faded and he threw them away. He still kept the note though.

He damped his cheeks and forehead with cool water and came out of the bathroom. _Where to go now_? He stopped in the hallway, looking at both sides, dazed. How can he not remember where he came from - 

This house was a maze, though it appeared to be so easily constructed when he arrived. He walked through the corridor, unsure if he's even going the right way, but at least he still could hear the music coming from what seemed to be the next room. _Jesus Christ but where exactly is it?_

"Hey! Where are you going, beautiful?" 

He almost jumped upon hearing Georgina's voice from behind; she turned on the lights so he could at last properly see _where_ he was - and realize this is some part of the house he hasn't been in yet, the hall with a staircase leading up.

"Are you looking for something - _or someone_?" she smiled, coming closer with a champagne glass in her hand. 

"No, I - I wanted to go, actually - I'm tired and - It's been nice but - " he stuttered, unable to make a full sentence.

"Oh, but that's a pity! You can't leave yet - Cristiano wanted to talk to you!"

"No, I - we talked already - I really should get going - "

"Just wait here, okay?" She gave him a conspiratorial smile, gesturing with her hands _stay there, stay there_ and left walking backward, keeping her eyes on him to make sure he's not going anywhere.

 He looked around, the whole room was lighted in a very soft, warm way, and all the noise and people sounded to be close yet too far to reach, he was alone, standing there by the staircase, waiting - 

He must go now. The simple and clear thought made his heart beat faster - he has to get going, he really has to leave and not wait for her to come back - but where, where to go? And it's too late because she's back and not alone, she brought Cristiano and they're both standing in front of him as a picture-perfect couple.

Georgina was still smiling. "I'm gonna leave you two alone now," she exclaimed in a low, mellow voice. 

"I'm - " Paulo made a hasty move, trying to get her attention as if he needed to tell her something a life depends on - Please, don't leave me here, don't go away, no, don't leave us alone - But she just smiled at him and left again.

"It's alright, Paulo. I'm here - " he heard Cristiano say, and his frightened eyes dared to look up at the man who was now standing right in front of him. "You wanted to leave already?"

He nodded frantically, feeling like crumbling under the searing gaze.

"Are you afraid of me?" Ronaldo continued in a husky voice, grabbing Paulo's cold trembling hands in his own.

"No," Paulo exhaled, finding out he can't free his hands from his grasp.

" _It's alright_ ," Cristiano said again, closing his eyes as if to make the words more calming. " _I'm here now_."

Paulo stares at him for a moment, and there's nothing that their breathing to be heard for a moment until Ronaldo takes his one hand off Paulo's wrist and wraps it around the younger man's lower back to bring their bodies closer together. "I'm here for you - " he breathed out and the touch of their bodies, of their chests, rising and falling in an unsynchronized manner, sends shivers down Paulo's spine. "Don't be afraid."

The closeness of their bodies and Cristiano's hot breath, his scent, and his stare were making him dizzy, he turned his head away to get at least _some_ personal space but Cristiano's voice was back immediately, calling his name again. "Paulo - look at me - look at me, baby - "

His head is floating when he opens his eyes slowly, just to stare in Cristiano's - 

The last remains of resistance made him try to push Cris away, turn his head and look elsewhere, anywhere, just not in his eyes - " _Please_ ," he let out a muffled sob, desperately trying to escape the overwhelming feeling that was taking over his body. " _Please_ \- "

He never manages to say the full sentence and he knows Cristiano cannot know what exactly he begs for.

 _Please, let me go_. _Please, just take one step back. Just one step - don't be so close - I can't take this - I need to breathe - I can't have you standing this close - I can't take this - I can't think - please, just one step back and I'll have a chance -_

Ronaldo's scent and the warmth of his body pressed against his took over his senses, and when his hand moved lower on Paulo's back, Paulo moaned, closing his eyes again - as a person ready and prepared for his own death, just willingly welcoming what was inevitable.

 "I want you so much," Ronaldo groans against his cheek and the desperation in the simple words make Paulo blush. His body is already lost, it reacts in a different way than his mind would wish to - but when Cristiano's other hand grasps a fistful of his hair and his own hands are free once again, he doesn't even try to push the older man away; instead he throws his arms around him, giving in to the lust and desire he has never known he could feel.

 _Yes, yes_ , this is it, this is the love and passion he's been waiting ever since he was fifteen and started to realize he needs a man, a good, well-built, muscular alpha man to be satisfied, a man that would ooze testosterone, a man who would have muscles popping out everywhere, a man with perfect six-pack, a man with the qualities of a model, a man like those he saw in all the porn videos and in his wet dreams, tanned man with broad chests and low voice, man who would just take him, fuck him, gag him with his big cock -

His dreams have never been satisfied before. Not with the random guy he gave a blowjob to in the bathroom of a sweaty club back in Córdoba, not by his friend Simone from Palermo whom he let fuck him in the back seat of his car - not with Leo - not with anyone - 

"I've wanted you since I arrived," Ronaldo moans, kissing his cheek and nibbling the skin there.

" _Oh God yes_." In one move, Paulo throws his head back and rocks his hips forwards, Cris' bulge rubs against his hip and he can't help it but moan again. " _You're so big_ \- "

 "Let me take you upstairs, baby - "

"Yes - " Once the dam is open, Paulo doesn't hold back at all, his hands are already at Cristiano's belt with his fingers that are still trembling. 

They climbed the stairs, stumbling, without letting each other of the heated and passionate embrace and as soon as they were on the upper floor, Cristiano pushed Paulo against the nearest wall with such force it actually hurt but Paulo couldn't care less, his whole body was burning with an unknown desire.

Cristiano's muscles were so firm, so strong under his touch and his hands roamed Cris' arms and back and shoulders with shortening breath, what a man, what a figure, what a body - 

"Come on, baby," Cristiano moaned after laying a trace of kisses on the side of his neck. "Come on - "

The cloth of his trousers can't hide anything, his bulge must be visible but it's dark in the hallway so Paulo can only feel and imagine how it looks as Cris grinds against his thigh and hip. "You make me so horny, baby - I need to fuck you so much - "

 "Yes," Paulo cries, wrapping his hands tighter around his back to make the rubbing even more arousing for both of them. "Yes, oh God, please!"

He's not even trying to keep his voice down and his own desperation and horniness surprises him, he seems to be full of energy all of sudden and his only wish is to be fucked, finally, by this man - he feels really big against his thigh and it's driving him insane, he doesn't want to wait anymore - 

"Nobody needs to know, baby," Cris whispers before kissing him on the lips soundingly. "Nobody - just you and me - "

His fingers are already working on Dybala's pants and fly and before he can even unbutton it he starts massaging him through the cloth which draws more moans from Dybala's parted lips. He's ready to melt under the stronger man's touch, he's ready to die in his arms - just for this moment, just for this feeling - 

 "Let me take care of this - "

They somehow manage to get inside the bedroom through one of the doors leading from the hallway; Cris just locked the door singlehandedly and pushed Dybala towards the cabinet by the wall. "Get on this, baby - " He's quick to find a bottle of lubricant but he doesn't have anything else. Paulo is too overwhelmed by the feelings by now to care about condoms, he's frustrated with his own pants that still keep him from fully enjoying Ronaldo's touch so he tries to get rid of them by removing the belt completely and taking them off while sitting at the edge of the piece of furniture, he's not even sure what it is but it doesn't matter when Cristiano comes closer, pressing himself right between his spread legs and pulls him closer to the edge. "Get this off as well - " He drags his boxers down and Paulo's eager to help him get rid of the last piece of clothing that's still separating them and that's already wet of precum anyway. Ronaldo just throws it on the floor and grabs the lubricant, not waiting any longer.

"Tell me, baby," he says hastily, letting his fingers coated in the gel finally touch Paulo. "How long have you not been fucked properly - " His own voice is heavy with lust.

"More than a year," Paulo breathes out; it sounds pitiful but he doesn't care and he just reaches hungrily for more kisses.

But Ronaldo's nifty fingers stopped for a moment. "He's been really neglecting you - "

"We never fucked - "

The truth is, Messi never wanted to push him into anything. They spent the nights together, doing other things, but they never got to _the peak_ \- and Paulo always thought he didn't mind. Under Cris' possessive touches, he realized how wrong he's been - his whole body was on fire and Ronaldo's roaming hands were the only thing that could ease the pain and extinguish the fire that started in him. 

"Oh baby," Ronaldo moaned; and if there was more light, Paulo could see his expression change from raw passion to satisfied grin. His fingers are long and skilfull when it comes to touching the right places. "So tight - so good for me - "

This was much better than winning the sixth Ballon d'Or would feel.

Paulo's nails were digging deeper and deeper in his skin with every move he made, and when he removed his fingers from Paulo's now relaxed entrance, the boy just kept on moaning in the horniest and neediest way, not giving a damn about who might hear him, and he kept on repeating the neverending chant of "yes, yes, yes" until their bodies became one. 

 _Messi will never have him like this_ \- Cristiano thought as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside. Paulo looked so pure and innocent and there was no way Leo would have him like this ever again, not when _he_ takes this boy before him, bareback, raw and wild, not when he cums inside, not like this - 

It felt so good, _ruining this boy_ , that he could have just cum right at the moment. 

"So fucking good," he repeats, voice heavy with lust as he kisses Paulo again to stop him from moaning for at least a minute. He won't last much longer, he's sure of that, Paulo is too tight, too perfect for that, and the feeling of an approaching orgasm just makes him go harder and faster. His own hand moves up and down Paulo's stiff dick. "Cum for me, baby, cum for me and show me how much you want this, come on, baby, _I know you want it so bad_ \- "

Paulo's whimpers and moans themselves are enough to send him over the edge, and he cums right inside him, grabbing and squeezing his shoulders in the most possessive manner he was capable of, while squirting his seed deep inside the boy who was _his_ from this day on, he was marked as his and Leo would never be able to make him his, not like this, not ever. Paulo moaned a few more times while bucking his hips desperately before spilling all over Cris' hand.

He willingly licked all the white mess off of it; it was still warm. He belonged to Ronaldo now. There was no other way of interpreting what has just happened. Cristiano claimed him. Like a wild animal - he just came and fucked him raw and made him his - and Paulo's own thoughts meant nothing now, he belonged to Cris and Cris was the one making decisions, he was the one responsible for everything. Paulo had no longer any will of his own.

"Get yourself cleaned," Ronaldo said in a much calmer voice, smacking Paulo's butt playfully. As he pulled away from Paulo's sweaty and used body, he could feel him clenching around him desperately.

"Cris - I need you - I need more - please - " Paulo gasped, trying to stop him from moving away.

"A second round?" Cris asked, laughing; but the question itself was absolutely serious.

"Yes - _please_ \- "

Hell, this boy was more fun than Ronaldo expected him to be.


	8. I had heard that it happens like this (and you must have heard it too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the titles of the chapter are actually lyrics from the musical "Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812", this is actually a line from the off-broadway version - and from the book "War and Peace" itself:  
> "I had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it too, but it’s only now that I feel such love. It’s not the same as before. As soon as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his slave, and that I could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! Whatever he orders I shall do. You don’t understand that. What can I do?”

He didn't remember much of the rest of the night, it was all just a wild and vivid cocktail of kisses, touches and Ronaldo's hot breath against his cheek, and then, the soft mattress under his sweaty back and Cris leaning over him while holding onto the bed headboard - he felt like they must have been in the bedroom for hours but when they got back downstairs, the scene there was pretty much the same as when they left. 

Paulo's face was flushed as he walked between his friends, knowing that they don't know what has just happened, and when Cristiano came down lates - to not make their return look suspicious - he even got a sinking feeling that the others might somehow guess it just from the way they looked at each other at that moment. And when he talked to Mario later, he felt like Mario could read that from his face - that _he knows_ how it feels to be pressed into the mattress by Cristiano's body, how good it actually is to be mapping every inch of his muscles, and that he's by now well familiar with the way he breathes, closes his eyes and bites his lips in arousal.

He stayed until the party was over - and longer; and he woke up in Cris' bed, dazed at first when he opened his eyes in the morning, confused by the unusual color of the ceiling and the shape of the light, and mostly by the strong hand that was wrapped around his waist.

So it wasn't a dream. The party yesterday, Cristiano's eyes, his body so close - it was all real. Paulo rolled on his side, careful not to wake Cris up because he simply wanted to enjoy this calm moment. He felt somewhat weak and very dehydrated but that couldn't stop him from admiring the beautiful picture before his eyes. He didn't remember how or when they fell asleep though it didn't really matter - they were both only in their underwear, in an embrace, and Paulo's heart was filled with such love and softness he hasn't felt for  _an eternity._   Cris was still sleeping, breathing quietly and regularly, and his face looked so calm Paulo couldn't help it but smile. 

The one thing he was sure he would never forget from the last night was how _perfect_ his face looked when twisted in pleasure, while deep moans were just rising from deep down his throat.

He couldn't fight the desire to touch him anymore and his hand found Cris' naked chest under his blanket. Cris sighed, moving his head, and the sound itself was enough to drag a moan from Paulo.

He used to laugh at all the soap operas his grandma and mum watched back in Argentina all the time, and he laughed at plots involving mysteriously seductive guys with names like Juan and Pablo and Rodrigo who somehow always fell in love with the poor girls from village - but Cristiano was _just like that_ to him now, he was one of the Greek gods, he was the sexy mysterious man who turned his life upside down and Dybala found himself in the role of the poor girl, torn between her duties and the irresistible charm of all the _Juans_ , _Pablos_ and _Rodrigos_ \- and _Cristianos_.

Was this love? Was this THE love he always wondered if existed? Or was this some fleeting, temporary madness? He didn't care - as long the man who aroused such terrible feelings was by his side and all he could feel was the unrecognized burning passion.

And he leaned over Cristiano to kiss him.

 

 

They arrived at the training separately, and Paulo had to maintain his thoughts all the time to keep himself from getting too focused on Cristiano's body in the kit. 

He couldn't wait for the training to be over to allow his fingers to explore more of Cris' body, and drunk on that feeling, he moved away from the group of his playmates just after the practice and practically ran to the bathroom, taking his phone along. 

His fingers moved across the screen in the speed of light and he pressed " _Send_ " before even re-reading the message.

The message he never wanted to write but suddenly couldn't care less about; the message to Messi.

 

_Leo, I don't think we should force ourselves to stay in a relationship that has no appeal to us and that has lost all its meaning._

 

Well, after all, it wasn't that horrible, and he didn't feel horrible for writing it all. It was only the truth.

And his fingers were shaking already with the desire to roam Cristiano's body.

 "I wrote to Leo," he whispered in between the hungry kisses Ronaldo gave him as soon as they were left alone in the locker room.

Cristiano pulled away, watching him carefully. "Really?"

 "Just that - we shouldn't consider ourselves a couple - anymore - " He pulled Cris' head closer, trying to get another kiss from him. " _Cris, please_ \- " His hands started frantically pulling Cris' shirt up so he could touch the abs, the body, _the perfection itself_ - 

"Nothing about you," he said, and his voice was muffled by another kiss. "Just - that we can't be a pair - "

"Good," Ronaldo breathed out, kissing the corner of Paulo's lips. "You're so good. Too good for him anyway - "

"I've never felt anything this strong - " Paulo admitted, gazing in Ronaldo's eyes. Cristiano smiled, running his fingers through Dybala's hair and then grabbing a fistful of it.

"I love you - there's nothing else I could do, Paulo - "

His fingers ran down Paulo's back but his mind was preoccupied with something else.

It was the highest time to act.

 

 

He took Paulo home with him in the evening, and while driving, he still kept his right hand on Paulo's thigh, holding it firmly and possessively, giving him a reassuring smile from time to time. He was wearing a simple hoodie and sunglasses to not get recognized in the traffic; while Paulo simply held his head down. His heart was torn between the fear of looking at his phone to check if there's a new message from Lionel and the warm touch on his thigh that was making him crazy. But the touch was physical, it was here and now, just as Ronaldo, and the desire won over his fear - yet once again.

As soon as Cristiano parked the car in the driveway and got out of it, he rushed to Paulo's side to open the door for him - and Paulo smiled at such gallantness, forgetting his previous worries as soon as Cris shut the door - and pressed him against the car in a passionate move before kissing him. Paulo didn't have the time to catch his breath and he tried to push him away just to be able to breathe again; Cris' hungry kiss just deepened and left him panting.

" _Oh God_ ," he groaned when Cris pulled away a little and he was finally able to inhale some air. "Let's go - "

Cristiano smiled, pulling him closer again. "Come with me - "

He dragged him into the garden, or more specifically, towards the one place that stood like a lighthouse in the dark and that seemed to offer a comfy place - a modern gazebo with two benches that was built by the high privacy fence.

 "I need you, baby - " he whispered in between the kisses he kept on giving Paulo as he sat down on one of the benches, pulling Paulo down to sit on his lap to face him. 

"Here?" Paulo asked in an unsure voice - but the way Cristiano moved his hips to rub their crotches together erased all the doubts from his mind. Ronaldo wanted him here and now, and God, who was he to say anything against it? The gazebo was beautiful, with its columns covered with some kind of ivy which was growing all over the garden fence, and lit so softly Cristiano looked better than ever, though he was still wearing that silly hoodie - 

 

 

"Dan? Yeah, yeah, it's me," Cristiano laughed, holding the phone to his ear. It was just dawning, and Paulo was still fast asleep in the bed when Cris sneaked out of the room to do what had to be done. There was no time to lose. "Long time no see, huh? Listen, I know it's early, but I've got something for you."

He didn't want to do it _this way_ but Paulo's willingness to break up with Messi so quick caught him off guard and he had to change his plans a bit.

"A very special something," he corrected himself, looking at the PC screen in front of him. "Yeah. If you'd be interested... Some photos. Maybe a short footage."

The recording came out pretty and Cristiano had to laugh because this was the first time his house and garden cameras were actually useful.

"No... Dybala. Yeah. Oh, it's better than you think. Much better. Just wait and see. Just him... Well, let's say - _a random stranger_?... No, am I stupid or what? I learned my lesson."

He clicked through a few photos on the computer.

"No, it's not about the money... Believe me. The feeling's better. Though it's a pity. He's fine, I mean.... Tomorrow? Tomorrow' fine. I'll keep you updated."

He returned back to the bedroom and snuggled closer to the pretty boy who was smiling in his sleep, blissfully unaware of the wheels that were turning by now. 

 _He was indeed pretty_ , Cris thought as he buried his nose into the boy's hair. It's a pity he rushed his break-up with Messi so much; this part should have lasted longer to allow him to have more fun with this boy with the face of a child.

There was silence in the room; the silence before the storm.


	9. And I’ll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible

It was all over the news the next day,

_Dybala - Juventus star or an adult movie actor?_

_Paulo Dybala caught in flagranti - and NOT with Messi!_

_Where's Messi? Juventus' star spotted in a passionate kissing session with a mysterious stranger in a park_

_Who's the man? Paulo Dybala and an unknown man caught 'at it' in a Turin park!_

_Is this how they do it in Juventus? The footage from Turin park shows Paulo Dybala involved in a hot kissing session - and MORE!_

 And there were photos, many photos of Dybala sitting on the 'stranger's lap, dry humping him, getting off on him and then kneeling on the ground between the man's spread legs, and it wasn't photoshop, it was just plain reality. Ten different photos, all showing Paulo sitting on the lap of a stranger on some bench _in a park_ , kissing him passionately or giving him a blowjob, and the all-telling devoted look of his eyes was present in all the snaps, even in the short clip that got published, the clip where he was throwing his head back and moaning, and though there was no audio to this video, the pleasure was quite visible.

_Bad, bad Paulo - what is the young Juventus star up to during lonely nights?_

_Shocking series of photos show Paulo Dybala enjoying another man's company_

_Dybala-Messi romance is over? Paulo Dybala spotted in a local park, more than enjoying the company of a mysterious stranger!_

Dybala woke up in his own apartment (once again) to the sound of his phone ringing; he just hung it up without even looking and remained in his bed in the comfortable position. It took him a couple more minutes to fully wake up and then, he took the phone in his hand.

Twenty-nine missed calls.

What?

Nobody has ever wanted to reach him so much. His mind was suddenly preoccupied with the possible reasons - what has happened? Why this madness, has something bad happened? Why almost thirty calls? Who did this? Why?

 Maybe something happened in Turin at night and his friends and family were worried, so they tried to reach him  - the calls were from various numbers, some of them he knew and had saved, some of them seemed completely new to him and he was glad he turned the silent mode on before going to sleep because he definitely wouldn't like to wake up to the sound of so many people calling -

He opened the browser, scrolling down to the news to see if anything wrong has gone down in the city - but it was the "Super" column that caught his attention.

There was his name - 

 _Oh, God. Oh God no, oh fuck no - no, no, no, NO, it can't be_ - 

 The text got smudged in his vision and all he could focus on were the photos - the photos of him, kissing Cristiano's neck while holding onto him, grinding on his lap in that stupid fucking gazebo the day before yesterday - and while in the first few seconds he couldn't fully understand what this all meant, it slowly became clearer and clearer as his heart started to beat faster and faster and the grip of the phone got weaker - as if all the blood rushed to his heart all of sudden and he felt physically sick at that moment.

The text under the photo was full of exclamation and question marks and it took him a while to understand what this all is - it's not just the photos and it's not just the scene, it's a full article about him _getting fucked_ by _someone_ in a _public place_.

And then all the different thoughts started coming, each worse than the previous one.

They were caught fucking and the photos got published and everyone will know - 

HE is the one caught fucking. It's his face and his name all over the news - he opened a new tab and with shaking hands, he tried to type his own name into the search box which was something he hasn't done for a long time and considered it to be a sign of maturity. 

_Paulo Dybala...scandal? sex tape? photos? and Messi break up?_

 While Lionel Messi is recovering from his arm injury, Paulo Dybala seems to lose no time... That was the first line of one of the articles that came up.

_Oh God. Fuck, no, no, no, Leo - Leo will see this - it can't be happening -_

They just broke up. Two days ago - and Leo wrote back an unusually decisive yet sad message of "Please, we can get through this, I know I haven't been much of a support to you lately but at least let's wait until we see each other again" to which he had no answer prepared.

Leo will see this. Fuck, all his friends will - his family - his fans, the people who support Juventus, the people from Argentina, the people who never gave a damn about him and Messi but now - how can he play for Argentina - they won't let him - 

His rapid heartbeat and rushing blood made him lightheaded for a moment when he sat up in his bed. There were more articles.

_Messi's reaction to the Dybala sex tape_

_End of an Argentinian fairy-tale?_

_Here's what Messi has to say about his cheating boyfriend_

There was a video - _a video of Leo getting out of his car and then walking away from it, followed by at least ten photographers, taking snaps of his every step; he must have been on his way to the morning practice, frowning and with a cap on his lowered head, trying to avoid any eye-contact with his followers, and the footage got more distracted as the person with the camera was obviously trying to catch up with Leo, and then, into the awkward sound of snaps and footsteps, a question was to be heard:_

_"How's Paulo? Have you talked to him today?"_

_Leo's head jerked, and as he looked into the camera, his eyes were the ones of a deer in the headlights, his saddened look was so bad it made Paulo bit his lower lip painfully._

_"Did you two break up?" another paparazzi joined the first one, holding a microphone to Leo, who just ignored him, shaking his head in refusal of the question, not the words._

_"Have you seen the photos?"_

_Leo shook his head again, muttering "No comment" under his breath._

And then the video ended.

Paulo found himself shaking with the extreme anxious heartbeat. What can he do now? What can he do? What should he do? Is there anything...? 

His phone started ringing at that moment again, and he threw it on the other side of the bed, frightened. 

He's not gonna talk to anyone. He's not gonna answer it. He's not gonna give any interviews - 

What about training? What about playing? What about his...name? What about living his life? 

It's not _a park_ , for fuck's sake, and it's definitely not _a stranger_ , and it's not his fault - 

He pressed his hand against his mouth to silence the desperate sob that just came out.

He was fucked. Totally, inevitably fucked.


	10. A Call to Mario

Paulo missed the training, without apologizing or even trying to reach the coach the next day. The number of missed calls still grew, and soon, messages started to appear; he deleted the first ones, the ones in the most surprised and shocked tone.

 

_Paulo what the fuck?!!_

 

_Seriously?_

 

_why is it in the news?_

 

_hey, you alright, mate?_

 

He wasn't. He barely even got out of the bed, he didn't sleep and couldn't drink anything, his whole body felt like being in a tight knot, unable to untie; he was tense, as if on the verge of gagging the whole time, and he felt so sick he knew that eating anything would make him throw up immediately.

 Someone was trying to reach him through the phone maniacally, calling every five minutes, and though the phone was laying not far from Paulo's reach, he couldn't make himself pick it up. It took him hours to get his thoughts together enough to get up from the bed and go to the bathroom - there, he broke down again, sitting on the cold tiled floor by the toilet, and he started coughing violently as if to vomit but nothing came up. 

The phone in the bedroom was still ringing tirelessly. He should have probably turned the volume off. That was the only thought he was able to process by now.

He got back on his feet, holding onto the white-tiled wall, shaking with every move. 

Who the fuck would be so hysterical to call him the whole day?

 _Cris, maybe it's Cris_ , and the thought of this possibility made his heart almost explode. He crawled back to the bedroom, grabbing the vibrating phone in his sweaty palm. 

_Leo._

 He jerked away as if stung by a wasp. 

 _No, not him_ \- where's Cris, where is he when Paulo needs him the most? Why was he always around when he was supposed to avoid him, and suddenly, there's not a word from him?

Paulo laughed maniacally, looking at Leo's number without answering, but as soon as Messi's attempt to reach him was over, he searched for a different name in the list of contacts.

 

"Cris?!"

" _What's the matter_?"

"What's the matter?!"

"P _aulo, I know you're probably not in the best state now_ \- "

"Not in the best state?"

" _Stop with that_."

"What?"

" _Stop repeating every damn thing I say. I know it's hard for you now_ \- "

"Really? What are you doing? Why didn't you call? I have millions of missed calls and not a single one of you - "

" _I didn't want to bother you now._ "

"You wouldn't bother me at all - " His voice broke. "Where are you? I need to see you - "

" _It's not the best idea_."

"Why? Why now, Cris? I need to see you - I need to - be with someone - why can't you come over?"

" _You yourself know what a wrong publicity can do_ \- "

"How could that hurt you?"

" _I was in those photos as well_ \- "

"Not your face! It's not your face and your name all over the headlines - "

" _Stop it, you're being hysterical_."

"I am fucking hysterical?" Paulo screamed, unable to control himself anymore. "My life - and my whole career - it's all turning in shit in front of my eyes - "

Cristiano didn't answer; all Paulo could hear for the next few seconds was only his frantic heartbeat.

"Cris?" he asked, and his voice was suddenly filled with sadness and worry. "I just need - some support - I don't know what to do. I can't leave the house - I'm afraid to go out - I don't know how I'll play the next games, I can't go to training - please, Cris, help me - somehow - "

" _You need to calm down. Then you can call me without all this screaming_."

And he hanged up.

 

 

" _Mario_?"

"Yeah?"

Mandžukić was surprised by solely by Dybala calling; it was very rare that the Argentinian would call him and he wasn't used to hearing his voice in the phone, especially not in this state - and under such circumstances.

"Hey, Paulo? Are you still there?"

A quiet sob was his answer and Mario couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The last two days must have been horrendous for him; well, just as it was for every other Juventus player. What will now the fans think? Will there be any obscene chants? How will they react to Dybala playing - or not playing - the next match? What does this mean for the sponsors?  Is Dybala himself to blame?

" _I've done - a terrible thing_ \- "

 His voice was so distant and numb Mario started to think of all the possible ways to comfort him. "It's just the fucking paparazzi - it's your own business what you do, they had no right to - "

" _I mean now - can you...can you help me? Please_?"

 

 

Paulo's place wasn't surrounded by hundreds of paparazzi as Mario would expect. Maybe they were all just exaggerating and the leaked photos meant nothing. After all, practically everyone knew about Dybala's relationship with Messi, though they were trying to keep all the media attention down, so everyone knew about Paulo being gay and, well, it couldn't surprise anyone that he had a certain sexual life as well - though getting caught having sex with a guy who's not your partner in a park was hardly a good advert for the young Argentinian. For now - Mario was sure about that - Dybala could say goodbye to the captain's armband. 

 _The position of a captain in our team should be held by someone responsible, someone who can set an example to the others, be the role-model our kids need_.... Mario could practically hear the coach's firm voice saying these lines. He really hope this whole scandal won't have any further consequences for the young star, it would be a pity for such a young talent to waste his career because of something so reckless as having sex in a public place. Some people sure won't forgive him. Some people won't forgive him it wasn't Leo. Jesus Christ, who would have thought that Dybala, who always looked so quiet and timid would be caught doing something like this?

 "Paulo? It's Mario here. I'm downstairs."

"Oh thank God - " Paulo's voice sounded weak but still full of relief.

And Mandžukić soon realized what was the reason.

He was greeted by the sight of Paulo with a dead white face, pressing his left forearm against his stomach as if either it or his arm were in pain, and there was blood on his shirt - 

"What the fuck - ?"

He pushed Paulo back in his apartment and shut the door behind them, forcing Paulo to show him his hand. It was cut, not badly but enough for Paulo to have blood running down his whole forearm which made it look more terrifying.

"What have you done - ?"

"It's not that bad - "

"Did you cut yourself?"

"Just a little - "

"Do you have a towel or anything?" Mario wasn't even waiting for his answer, he rushed further into the apartment, looking for the bathroom. The bathroom was in the same state as Paulo himself - messy, chaotic, and there was some blood and vomit in the sink; both the sight and smell of it made Mandžukić reflectively want to gag but he contained himself, grabbed a towel from the hanger and in five quick steps, he was back with Paulo. "Gimme that hand - what did you want to do? Kill yourself? Are you in a fucking drama or what?"

"No, no, it's just - I can't play now, I need to...have a reason... I can't break my arm or leg by myself - "

"Hold the towel pressed against the cuts, okay? And go sit down somewhere - in the living room or - I don't know - "

Paulo nodded sheepishly, making an unsteady move towards the room but Mario immediately grabbed his shoulder again. "Can you walk there by yourself? You won't faint?"

"No, it's okay - I just need some water - "

"Okay, I'll bring it. Just sit down, alright?"

With Paulo walking slowly to the living room, Mario had some time to check things up again - the blade on the bathroom sink, an absolute mess everywhere. Even in the kitchen. There was an open bottle of rum on the counter, and a glass standing next to it. Mario washed it and filled with cool water from the tap and brought it to Paulo who was already sat in one of the armchairs, still pressing the towel on his hurt arm. Since Paulo's both hands were preoccupied, he held the glass to his lips and let him drink like that.

"What was that?" he asked, looking in Dybala's eyes. Paulo swallowed a few gulps of the water, not answering. "The worst attempted suicide?"

"No," Dybala breathed out in desperation. "I would never do that."

"Then why did you cut yourself?"

"I can't play - I can't train with the team - "

"Of course you can, nobody's gonna put you on the bench just because of this - "

"No, I mean - I cannot play, like - I, personally, cannot - "

"What are you talking about?" Mario put the glass down and reached his hands to check up on Paulo's forearm; he carefully made him to take the towel off to see how bad it actually was.

 The sight was making him genuinely sick, though not as sick as the thought of Paulo doing _this_ to himself.

"Why didn't you call someone before? I don't know, maybe Cristiano? - "

"It's over - "

"What?"

Paulo's terrified face made Mario's heart sink.

"What is over?" he repeated firmly, still holding his hand.

"He wouldn't come - "

"Why?"

"No, I can't - "

"What is it? Paulo, you can tell me anything - and if it could help you anyhow, I swear - tell me!"

Paulo shakes his head, refusing help once again.

"I'll need to take you to a hospital. You might need some stitches."

"It's not that bad - "

"It's pretty bad for a person who's supposed to be in the top form by now. How long have you not eaten? You need to be taken care of - and a break. You can't play like this. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"But the bad publicity - "

"Is it worse than fucking someone in the public?" Mario fired back.

"It wasn't _in the public_!" Paulo could hear himself screaming without even wanting to. "It was a private garden, okay!"

"Why would the paparazzi be in some random guy's garden - " Two seconds were enough for him to understand. It just clicked together perfectly. "Paulo - "

"No - "

"Paulo, was it him?" 

Dybala bit his lip forcefully, shaking from head to toe.

"Paulo - tell me. Please. Was it Ronaldo?"


	11. Mario & Cristiano

" _You're a genius, you know that_?"

"Well," Cris smiled, obviously flattered, stretching a little on the sofa. The TV he's been watching was muted; the call of Georgina was more important to hear. "It's not like Paulo has any evidence of our...short relationship. And he surely won't tell anyone. It's kinda sad for him, really. Who would believe him? He can't even apologize to Messi now. Can you imagine that? _Oh, sorry, Leo_ ," he said in an unnaturally high pitched voice with a terrible Argentinian accent, " _it wasn't a stranger - it was Cristiano_. That would kill him."

" _You surely wouldn't mind_."

"Well, now it's up to Paulo what he's willing to say. The sad thing for him is - he doesn't have any proof. So why even say it. I can deny anything he says. And I'm sure he's in a pretty bad mood now so he won't talk to anyone from the press anytime soon. And people will eventually forget all this and lose their interest."

 " _Poor Paulo_ ," Georgina sighed with a fake regret.

"He's okay. Just a bit of a drama queen, you know? _Oh my God, Cris, they got the pictures of me sucking a dick, what should I do_?! - He's really so clueless, it's almost cute. He knew what he was getting into."

" _Well, maybe he didn't expect you to be part of his downfall._ "

"He still doesn't know shit. He was really good, you know? I just don't think I would be able to stand him for much longer, I mean, it was fun and all but - it's time to move on."

" _What if he doesn't want to move on_?"

"He'll have to deal with it."

" _There's a special place in hell for you, Cristiano_."

"There's a place for you right next to it as well," he laughed.

A sharp sound of a doorbell ringing cut him off. "Sorry, I'll have to go. Take care, bye-bye."

He hanged up and got up from his couch, smoothing his luxurious shirt that was always half opened, just to show a great deal of his chest and the golden cross hanging there.

 It was Mario.

Ronaldo surely didn't expect him to be standing outside but whatever, he greeted him the same way as on the training yesterday.

"Hey, Mario. Wanna come in?"

"Sure."

Mandžukić didn't look very excited - _but he never did_ , Cristiano told himself.

 "What's the matter? You have never even visited me, not once - " Cristiano started, walking before Mario with a self-assured smirk, but Mandžo's hand grabbed him and pulled him back with an unexpected force that made him yank in pain. "What the fuck?"

"Listen here, you fucking Ronald Cristian - " Mario's face was suddenly so close to his with the angered expression which has earned him his nickname _Mr. No Good_ , and in one single move that made Ronaldo feel absolutely powerless thanks to his shock, he pushed him back against the nearest wall. "I'm just coming from Paulo. Paulo - you know him, right? Dybala. The one from our team."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Cristiano hissed, trying to push Mandžukić's hands away but he was met with strong resistance from the tall Croatian that he had no other choice than to stay with his back pressed up against the wall.

"He called you, right? He wanted you to come to visit him."

"Yeah, whatever, I don't have time - "

"You fucking should have!" Mario's eyes were wide open as he spat the words right in Cris' face, and his cheeks were turning red as if he was forcefully trying to hold back the real rage that was running through his veins right now. "You know what he did? You know that?" He shook Ronaldo's shoulders desperately. "He cut his arm in some state of madness, hoping it would save him from playing and training. He lost some blood but should be okay - but he's on the verge of a total breakdown - "

Cristiano really did look surprised as he heard about Paulo but as soon as Mario started about the _breakdown_ , his face went back to its usual self-confident smirk and it made Mario want to just wipe that self-absorbed look off it and beat this shit out of CR7.

"I know he has it hard now but what does it have to do with me?"

 "He wanted to see you, he needed you - " Mario finally let go off his shoulders and took a step back, breathing out.

Cristiano raised his head and fixed his wrinkled shirt. "I'm a little too busy - " He shook his head in disbelief - _how could anyone expect him to have some free time at all_ \- and made a few steps further the hallway.

"You weren't too busy to shag him."

Ronaldo stopped in the middle of the next step and slowly turned around with raised eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

Mario's gaze could kill. "You know damn well."

"What did he say to you?" he asked, coming back closer to Mario.

" _Everything._ "

 _"_ Like what? That we fucked? Come on - Do you believe him?"

He could actually see the wave of rage rise in Mario's eyes, and it took Mario just a second to push him against the wall again, though this time with greater force than before, it actually hurt and Ronaldo yanked in pain though Mario's hands were holding him firmly in place.

 "More than you, that's for sure. Why him, Cris? Why - of all people - him?"

"So what?" Ronaldo exclaimed, trying to raise his hands defensively. "So we fucked, and what? It's none of your fucking business."

"Why him?" Mario repeated, gritting his teeth. "Is it because of Messi? Is it because of your childish rivalry and hatred towards him? Do you really have to destroy everything he touches?"

"Paulo wanted it. He was desperate. He needed someone who would love him, properly - "

"Love him? This is what you call love? That you fucked him and sold the photos to the paparazzi?"

Cristiano's face betrayed anxiety. "Be careful what shit you let out of that foul mouth, Mandžukić," he hissed.

"Isn't it true?" Mario didn't step back an inch, his harsh breathing was coming out right in Ronaldo's face. "Wouldn't it be better for the photographers to get a photo of you than Dybala? Imagine that - " He grabbed Ronaldo by his shirt. "A fucking paparazzi sneaking around your garden, trying to get some exclusive photos - and he sees you and Paulo there, smooching on the bench - don't you think they would try to get photos of you in the first place?"

"I - don't - know - " He rapped out, pushing his hands against Mario's chest.

"You, _the best player in the world_ ," Mario continued in an undeniably derisive tone. "Fucking a guy in a garden - that would be something, am I right?"

"Shut the fuck up - "

 " _That's what I think_. _That's my opinion_."

"Where's your proof, Mandžukić?" Ronaldo asked with obvious mockery. "Be sure I won't fucking forget anything you accuse me of here today - and my lawyers will hear of this - "

Mandžukić placed his right hand on Cristiano's neck and squeezed it, making the Portuguese gulp and hold his breath. "Listen here, you fucking overpriced piece of shit - I don't give a fuck about your lawyers. I don't give a fuck about any proofs - I know what I know. I know Paulo, and I have known him for _years_ now, and I will put my life on the line for him. Get it? You're not a team player and you have never been - you don't give a fuck about him being hurt and in the hospital; he needed some stitches - you don't even care about his state, it doesn't even matter to you if he can play the next match - "

"Shut..." Ronaldo wheezed, unable to finish the sentence with  _up_   because of his lack of air. 

"You would destroy his life and career just to use him as a tool of your childish kindergarten fraud with Leo - you don't give a fuck about this club, you don't give a fuck about Dybala being in a good form - "

The veins on Cristiano's neck were by now visible and his whole face was turning unnaturally red, and there was real fear in his eyes; _God forbid but Mario loved that sight_. He eased the grasp a little to allow him at least normal breathing and positioned his legs in a way so he wouldn't be in danger of Cristiano kicking him in self-defense. It wasn't exactly the kind of fight he was used to but he loved it anyway, especially when Ronaldo's face seemed so punchable.

"I know I can't get rid of you, and I know I can't make you stop playing at Juventus," he started, staring in Ronaldo's eyes. "But believe me, I can turn your life into hell. If I ever see you trying to get close to Paulo - if you even touch him, I swear to God I will break your both legs and I won't give a fuck about how much you're worth because you're less than shit to me now."

He forcefully pushed Ronaldo back against the wall so his the back of his head would hit it.

"There is such a thing as other people," he exhaled, feeling how full of anger his voice still is. "And their happiness and peace. If anyone hasn't ever told you."

Ronaldo ran his hand through his hair, looking at Mario defensively. "This will have its consequences - "

 "I don't care as long as you keep your filthy hands off Paulo. You're sickening, you really are. And I won't hesitate _a moment_ to smash your skull with anything that comes in my hand the second I hear you talking about _anything_ that has happened between you and him - Because that's over, Cristiano. And if you ever speak of it, you're over as well."

 Cristiano stared at him, rubbing his hurting neck, lost for words.

"Don't ever try to send flowers or gifts - you won't buy out your guilt over what has happened."

"I didn't do anything to be sorry for."

 Mario gave him a final, light push that wasn't even meant to be serious, and he looked at him, head to toe, disgusted. "You're the most repulsive human being I have ever seen," he muttered, looking ready to spit on him. "There's a special place for people like you in Hell, Cristiano"


	12. Forgive me for everything

There was a great deal of calling that day. 

Mario called to Rakitić, and then Ivan called to Leo; Messi tried to call Paulo but couldn't reach him so he called Ivan instead to ask for Mandžukić's number and the whole circle closed with Mario receiving a phone call from Messi himself.

Dybala was staying at the hospital for one day, with his left hand bandaged; Mario drove him there and stayed with him the whole time he was getting the treatment; still, not one of them was able to come up with a better excuse than the old lame _"I broke a glass and cut myself_ " but it didn't matter. Paulo got his room, Mario explained the publishable parts of the story to the doctors and nurses to remind them that _Mr. Dybala_ needs a quiet environment and definitely would not welcome any kinds of fuss around himself, and left for his visit to Ronaldo. 

He stopped by again in the evening, bringing a bag of oranges since he always had this fruit associated with being in a hospital; he found Paulo laying in his bed, looking at the white painted wall with no interest in talking or eating or doing anything else. 

"How do you feel?"

Dybala's eyes were absolutely lifeless. He looked at Mandžo, sighed and turned his head away again.

"Paulo, you need to eat. The nurse told me you didn't want the dinner. I know the dinners in a hospital are...no good..." He smirked at his own joke but Paulo's expression stayed calm. "But you need to eat and behave. They'll let you go tomorrow. It's nothing serious. You didn't even lose that much blood. Thank God."

"I haven't even called my mum yet - " Paulo suddenly said, voice hoarse from the long silence and lack of drinking. "She must know by now - Jesus Christ she must be so embarrassed - "

"You can't think of anyone else now - just focus on yourself and your own health, okay?"

Mario didn't tell him about his deduction about Ronaldo's cooperation with the paparazzi, after all, it was just a shot in the dark. As Cristiano himself had said - _where was the proof_? Mario still had the feeling that his suspicion was right and that Ronaldo indeed sold the photos to some photographers, though it seemed too twisted and sick even for him. He didn't tell Paulo about his visit at Cristiano's place either; he only said he needed to take care of something in the city and Paulo didn't ask.

Paulo didn't talk much after all.

 _Was it really possible for him to fall for Ronaldo so fast_? Mandžukić though as he watched the miserable figure. How could he - with Messi by his side? They always seemed to be happy. Paulo never talked about any problems. He rarely ever talked about Messi at all; he really was a private person. What happened that he was willing to pay such a high price for some fleeting moment of pleasure?

"It's going to get better, believe me."

Paulo looked at him, visibly exhausted. "I really loved him, you know?"

And Mario almost asked _Which one of them?_

 

 

Paulo knew he was to be released from the hospital around the midday the next day, and according to his most reliable source, Mario, there was no sign of any reporters or paparazzi waiting for him.

At exactly 10:42, a small man in a dark jacket with a hoodie and freshly shaved beard made his way in the hospital; from the liveness of his steps nobody would have guessed he had just arrived by plane from Spain.

Paulo's heart stopped upon seeing him.

He was terrified. Truly terrified, because Leo was standing in the doorway of his room with his usual indecisive face and Paulo had nowhere to run - he couldn't avoid him, not even with his gaze. His eyes filled with tears just seconds after Leo appeared, and he bit his lower lip, turned his head to the side and then even closed his eyes, trying to focus on something else - _anything, really_ , just to push the image of Lionel standing there out of his mind.

It was too difficult, especially when Leo finally spoke.

"I was worried about you."

He tried so hard to keep it down and not sob or cry. 

"Paulo - " Messi made a few rushed steps towards the bed, taking his hoodie off. "Why did you do this to yourself?"

"Who told you - ?"

"Mandžukić called to Ivan and - I had to see you."

Paulo couldn't look at him. Watching the white curtains move slightly at the window was much easier to focus on. "Funny how now you could make it here - " He wasn't even able to finish the sentence properly. Tears rolled down his face and he had to swallow hard to hide the weakness in his voice. "After all that time - "

He wasn't angry at Leo. He wasn't angry at anyone right now; he couldn't feel anything at all but he still couldn't restrain from saying these blame-filled words.

Leo watched him crumble, he watched him give up his fight with the emotions that _had to_ come out anyway and he couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows upon seeing the younger man in such obvious emotional pain, combined with the pain from his hurt arm - 

An ugly sob escaped Paulo's mouth as he completely gave up and covered his face with the healthy hand. "I can't say sorry, can I?" he mumbled, trying to swallow at least some of the tears.

It was all too much for Leo - the unfaithful cheater, the one who sent the resolute break-up message just a few days ago, was laying in the bed right in front of him and he couldn't force himself to hate the poor, devastated soul, no matter how much he would like to.

 "I ruined everything, right?" Paulo whispered.

Leo shook his head, unable to say anything; unable to _lie_.

"Why are you here, Leo?"

 "Mario was worried. He called to Rakitić - and he told me - and I was worried as well."

"You were never worried before - "

"I never knew - "

"What?"

"That you suffer. So much. _Alone_."

"That's okay," Paulo smirked with a dead expression in his eyes. "I didn't know either."

"Paulo - No matter what has happened, I don't wish anything bad to you."

 As he said those words, he finally decided to act; he moved closer, making the final steps towards Paulo's bed, and he reached out his hand, waiting for Paulo to react, to take it or refuse it, but Paulo didn't even look at him; he was too busy choking on his own tears with his head turned to the side.

" _Paulito_ \- " He took Paulo's hand awkwardly, trying to make eye contact with him.

"Please - go away," Paulo mumbled, barely audible. "Please. Really. I can't - I can't watch you here, trying to pity me - "

"No - " Messi's other hand grasped Paulo's tightly and he rubbed the skin comfortingly. "I want to make sure you're alright. Neither of us - " he looked around, trying to find any place to sit but since the chair was on the other side of the room, he didn't risk letting Paulo's hand out of his if life was dependent of that touch; he simply squatted down by the bed. "Neither of us wants to end it this way, right?"

" _End_ \- " Paulo exhaled as if surprised by the way the word sounded.

Messi didn't answer and his silence finally made Paulo's eyes shift towards him.

"That's what you wanted," Leo reminded him quietly, squeezing his hand.

"I don't know what I want anymore - "

"I can't - I can't help you with that." There was so much pity in his voice, almost as if he was trying to say ' _sorry_ ' in the short sentence. "But we'll get through this."

" _We_?" Paulo's fingers curled at the sheet unintentionally.

"I still love you, Paulo. Not the same way as before - " Unspeakable pain flashed in his teary eyes and just now Paulo knew that his heart must have been shattered by the message he sent him and he still managed to come, now, after all that has happened, to tell him this. " - but you're still dear to me, and I will try my best to help you. As a friend."

Paulo's lower lip was shaking from the excessive urge to fight back more tears.

"Maybe it's the best - for the both of us - to go our own ways," Leo continued with great difficulty to find the right words. "Though it's a pity it had to happen like this - Tell me, Paulo, please - the other guy from the photos... Is that your...new boyfriend? Have you been seeing him for some time? Or is that really a stranger you just met in a bar?"

"Does it make any difference?"

"No. No, it doesn't." Leo raised the corners of his lips in an emotionless smile. "But the media portrayed it as some random one-night stand and I believe I know you - at least I thought I did - " He stopped, getting lost in his own words. "Maybe I just want to know - because it's been bugging me the whole time, Paulo, and I hope you understand - if he was _the_ _reason_ , or _the_ _result_ \- of our break-up."

Paulo bit his lip, choking back a sob. "I don't know - "

"Oh. Well - " Leo looked puzzled. "Then - are you with him now?"

Dybala didn't think he'd have to face Leo so soon and he definitely didn't think this would be how it'd look like. He'd expect some pain, sadness, remorse and blaming, not Messi holding his hand and asking him about his possible new partner.

"Do you see him anywhere?" he asked, feeling like spilling poison within his words and he finally burst into tears because the only words on his mind were _It's Ronaldo_  - and he couldn't say that, looking in Leo's eyes. "Isn't it ironic? That he was here when you weren't and now - you're here - though you shouldn't - " He pulled his hand away from Leo's grasp. "I'm sorry - _I'm so sorry_ , Leo - "

 _Leo was there_. _His_ Leo, Messi, he was with him, and Cristiano, the one who moaned _It's alright, I'm here_ \- where was he?

"Will you ever forgive me?" he gulped through the tears, closing his eyes, not being able to look at the scene of his pathetic situation any longer.

 "Paulo - don't worry about that. " His hand found Paulo's one again and this time, Paulo didn't yank it away. "I can't forget - and I can't feel the same way as before - "

Paulo nodded, tasting the blood of his own bitten lip on the tip of his tongue.

"I can't forget - but I can forgive. And I will. " Leo said assuringly, and he suddenly got up, and leaning over the bed he embraced Paulo. " I already did in my mind, but the heart might need some more time - " He could feel Paulo's weak attempt to hug him back.

"Don't worry about me. We're good," Leo whispered. "It's gonna be okay." 

 


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible Paulo/Mario for the future??

He didn't talk much as Mandžukić drove him back home. Messi left the hospital as quietly and mysteriously as he appeared, leaving Paulo shaking with sobs in his bed, unable to believe the kindness shown to him, and he was still teary-eyed when Mari arrived.

"Do you feel better now?" Mario asked him cautiously as if to check if he's willing to speak.

He nodded in silence, afraid that his voice would fail him again. Where were all the tears coming from? 

 "I thought everything was over for me - " he managed to say, and Mario took his eyes off the road just to look at him for a second, amazed by him talking at all. "But Leo - he showed his kindness - which I never deserved - "

"Stop - _stop_. Don't think of yourself like that - "

"It doesn't hurt so much anymore - "

 Mario didn't dare to ask what pain he meant, if the psychological or physical one.

 "That's good."

 Paulo went silent again, looking at his bandaged hand.

It would take him at least two weeks to be able to play again, and to Mario, it seemed like a good thing. He needed some time. He needed some rest, and especially, he needed some time without having to look at Ronaldo's face. 

Mario let him rest and focused on the driving. It didn't feel awkward at all, being silent in the car with Paulo.

 Parking by the building Paulo was living in was the only wake-up call. 

"Well - I'll stop by tomorrow," he said, unfastening his seatbelt.

Paulo did the same without looking at him.

"I just want to make sure you're alright - " Mario rushed to explain his care, and Paulo finally looked at him. The sadness was now still present in his eyes, and Mario understood it would take so much more time to make it disappear.

"Paulo - " he started, not sure where he was going; but he gained the Argentinian's attention and that was what mattered. "I want you to know that everything that has happened in the last days is safe within me. And I want you to know - that you can count on me. With anything. I'll be glad to help." He appeared to be at loss with words and he wasn't even able to look Paulo in the eyes, which was very unusual for someone as straightforward as him. "I just - don't want to receive - another call from you, talking about what stupid thing you have done - I want you to know that I'm not the last choice to call. I want you to consider me your friend. The one you can count on. Okay?"

Paulo nodded, overwhelmed with emotions. How come people were nice to him? Hasn't his name been dragged through the mud? Wasn't he the most despicable person on Earth? Wasn't he a cheater, a liar, a fallen man?

"Did you really love that fucking douchebag?"

"Don't speak of him like that - " he sniffed, closing his eyes. 

Ronaldo hasn't called. He hasn't written a single word.

He sobbed, furrowing his eyebrows once again, angry at himself for giving up to his emotions so easily.

"Paulo - the only thing I beg of you is to know you're still the same person as before. You haven't lost anything of your personality, nor character - you're still you - "

He reached for Paulo's right hand without looking at him. 

"Do you understand?"

 "I'm not worth this - "

"You're worth everything you get. Just as before."

Dybala shook his head, not wanting to argue anymore.

 "Good?" Mario asked.

"No Good," Paulo breathed out.

Mario looked at him, surprised by the change of his tone. 

And for the first time in many days, Paulo was smiling.


End file.
